


And I'll Do Anything You Ever Dreamed (To Be Complete)

by Paraprosdokia (ChangeableConsistency)



Series: Nobody Asked for This [2]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, BDSM, Begging, Blow Jobs, Crying, Cunnilingus, Dom Clint Barton, Dom Nick Fury, F/M, Friendship, Happy Ending, M/M, Marking, Minor Time Loops, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Praise Kink, Spanking, Sub Natasha Romanov, Sub Phil Coulson, Technically also a Prostitution AU but that doesn’t really come up, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:22:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22749256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChangeableConsistency/pseuds/Paraprosdokia
Summary: Phil gets Clint and Natasha. Not because they’re like missing puzzle pieces that fit together, though they are; and not because together they’re ten times as dangerous and effective as they are when they’re apart, but because looking at them is like looking in a mirror.One where Fury is standing right beside him, exactly like Clint and Natasha stand by each other.ORLet’s try this on hard mode: The BSDM AU, Sub!Phil/Dom!Clint/Dom!Fury/Sub!Natasha OT4 that nobody asked for.This was going to be 5k 50/50 hijinks and porn, but the porn got away from me a bit.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, Clint Barton/Phil Coulson/Nick Fury/Natasha Romanov, Phil Coulson/Nick Fury
Series: Nobody Asked for This [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1635694
Comments: 6
Kudos: 82





	And I'll Do Anything You Ever Dreamed (To Be Complete)

**Author's Note:**

> What you feel is what you are  
> And what you are is beautiful  
> — Goo Goo Dolls: Slide
> 
> Radïolokator: Peeping Tom  
> Os'minozhka: Little octopus  
> (I think? Correct me if I’m wrong.)

**Now.**

“Phil. Kneel.”

Phil stops arguing and licks his lips. He continues to stand for a beat. Then another.

But Fury has always, _always_ , had more patience than him.

Phil lowers himself carefully in a way he’s only been once, trapped by a sirocco and subspace starved, breaking for a friend— for their friendship.

**Then.**

The sound of the sand buffeting the building is soothing in the ways that summer rain and ocean waves are.

It should help; God, it should help.

Why isn’t it helping?

Phil’s practically shaking with need, a junkie missing his fix, and if he can’t keep it together Fury will know and he can’t let that happen.

He had been sure he was fine; that he was handling it.

So what if it had been more than six months.

He _is_ fine. He can take care of himself.

He hadn’t realized it had gotten so bad or he would have gone to a club to pick up some random stranger, distasteful as he finds the thought.

He hadn’t endangered the mission, he’s sure of it. The hostages have all been released and Fury’s contact at the embassy confirmed they arrived more or less unharmed, leaving Fury and Phil to fall back and wait for covert exfil, no one knowing how instrumental they had been.

Is it hot in here? He’s burning up.

No, not burning. Freezing.

His skin is on fire and Phil doesn’t know what to do— wait. Rubbing his hands up and down his arms helps.

It’d be so much better if his shirt wasn’t in the way, though.

He starts to lift up his shirt and stops himself.

Jesus. And what would Nick think if Phil suddenly started stripping.

That’s it, he’s losing his mind.

Fuck. What is he going to do?

**Then.**

“You’re good. I almost didn’t see you.”

“You’ve been watching me for twenty minutes, radïolokator. Are you all look and no touch?”

Clint makes the first move; well, first move after she disappeared from the roof across the street and reappeared silently behind him. She either climbed the fire escape or dropped over from the neighboring roof. He’s not sure which. 

Impressive. 

He starts with a right cross and she counters it with ease. 

Not that Clint’s surprised, he recognized her as the Black Widow almost right away and so far she lives up to her reputation. 

What were the odds? Both of them picking up the same job.

Clint’s life is so cool. 

She spins the counter into a flip that pulls him head over heels and would have laid out anyone else, but two years of trying to impress twin acrobats as a teenager had taught him more about his body and it’s limits than nearly anything else. 

He’s able to take the fall as a gainer with a twist that has her in a headlock.

Then he’s up and over her shoulder as she throws him again. 

He thinks he might be in love. 

**Now, but earlier than the Now before. Look, it only** **_sounds_ ** **complicated.**

“I just… I just want to do something for him, you know?”

“Like what?” 

Clint’s flopped on the couch, his legs over the arm and his head in Tasha’s lap. She’s massaging his face and head while he brainstorms. 

“Like… I don’t know. Something only I can give him.”

“You do that every day just by being yourself.”

“Booooo! That doesn’t help. C’mon Tash, Fury has to have told you something you can tell me? I mean, I’ve got to get something out of you sleeping with my boyfriend’s boss for free.”

Tasha flicks his ear, “Ow.”

**Then, before the first Then.**

“What do you think?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“On if it’s supposed to look that way on purpose.”

“Oh, bite me!” Phil throws a fingerless long sleeved glove, more zipper than leather, at Fury’s face.

“You look fine. Well, mostly. How you grew up never learning how to put on makeup is beyond me. Here, sit.”

Phil lowers himself carefully, the pale grey leather pants he’s wearing don’t leave him with much flexibility, not without risking a seam. The matching corset vest is just as tight, which is his excuse for feeling breathless as Fury fusses over his face.

When he’s done, the effects are almost stunning. He’s contoured Phil’s face, softening the squareness of his jaw, making his cheek bones a little sharper. Rather than the fire engine red lipstick Phil had used, Fury’s gone with a pale red tint, more gloss than color, that makes his lips look pouting and kissable. 

But it’s his eyes that are really remarkable; lined somehow to appear large and doe-eyed, the rich shades draw out the flecks of brown, grey, and green out of the blue of his eyes. 

“I almost... beautiful,” Phil whispers.

“You’re always beautiful,” Fury says, flicking his ear. 

“Hey, ow! Bad touch!”

“Come on, this asshole isn’t going to seduce herself.”

**A different Then.**

Clint lets out a long, low whistle, “You clean up good.”

“Thanks,” Natasha says dryly.

“No, really. You should put in an effort more often.”

She throws a makeup sponge at him that hits him right between the eyes, leaving a smudge of pale foundation.

“Do not make me regret bringing you, Hawkeye.”

“I’m surprised you called, after Manila.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you in Manila.”

“So, what, I was just collateral damage?”

“It wasn’t personal.”

“It never is, with you.”

**Then. And Then. And Then.**

“It will work this time.”

“I don’t know how you can be so positive,” Fury says as they nimbly step around the dog walker. 

Phil catches the leash as she drops it and hands it to her, waving off her, «Wow, thanks!»

«You’re welcome,» he says over his shoulder. They’ve decided to have Phil catch the dog, his German is slightly better and the dog walker likes him more, “You know what they say, tenth times a charm.”

“Phil, this my mother we’re talking about.”

“Hey, how weird is it that she’s been CIA this whole time?” 

They stroll across the street without looking, ignoring the honking cars that just barely miss them. 

“We’re trapped in a time loop and you think my mother being CIA is weird?”

“Well, is it?”

“Yeah. It’s fucking weird.”

Phil sighs, “She’s got to believe us this time.”

“And if she doesn’t?

They stop and let the window washer’s bucket of water spill harmlessly in front of them, “Then we try as many times as we need to until we get it right.”

~~~

“Fury. Fury!” Phil keeps pressure on the mangled mess that is the left half of Fury’s face, “It’s going to be okay. don’t worry, it’s going to be okay.”

Fury’s remaining eye blinks open, hazed with pain, and he cups Phil’s jaw, “I know it will. You’re here.”

“I’m going to reset us; we can try again.”

“No!” Fury squeezes Phil's arm painfully tight, “We finally saved her. We can’t risk it.”

“I’m sorry,” Phil says, clicking the button— but nothing happens. 

He clicks it again. 

And again. 

And again.

“Phil. Phil stop,” Fury chuckles with resignation as he puts his hand over Phil’s, “The universe agrees with me. When are you going to realize I’m always right?”

**Then.**

“Why did I agree to do this again?” Tasha asks as they rappel down the side of the Imperial Hotel in Madripoor.

“You love me?”

“I don’t do ‘love’.”

“And yet, here you are.”

“Don’t make me regret not shooting you in Bangladesh.”

“You not shooting me in Bangladesh is how I know you love me.”

“I could shoot you now?”

“Let’s kill DeWitt first and then you can shoot me.”

“No promises.”

~~~

“Oh fuck! Please? Please, sir?”

“Keep going, sweet girl, I know you can take it,” Tasha’s hands are tied, if you can call it that, with a wide satin ribbon; she presses them down into his chest as she rides him, squeezing her pussy around him and he wants to cry it feels so good, “I want you to wait for me, can you do that, Tasha?”

“I— Clint, please? Please let me come.”

“Not yet.”

“If you— if you let me come then I can suck you off and you can come down my throat.”

Clint surges up, flipping them and propping himself up over her with one hand, the other going around her throat, “I think you’ve forgotten who’s in charge here.”

Natasha moans and splays out her legs, tilting her hips up to give him deeper access as he thrusts into her.

“Now, I’m going to turn you over and you're going to play with that pretty little clit of yours while I pound your pussy, and you're going to be a good girl and not come until I say so.”

“Oh, _Clint_!” 

His fingers press into her throat as he licks into her mouth, claiming her, possessing her, sucking her lower lip and then biting as he pulls back, fucking her into the mattress. 

“Yes, sir, please! I’ll be good. Fuck, please, sir?”

“I’ve got you, Tasha,” he says, flipping her over roughly, just the way she likes it, “You can trust me.”

He can feel her fingertips against his cock as she rubs her clit, and he’s close, they both are.

“Fuck, oh, fuck, I do, Clint; I do!”

“Come for me, Tash, come for me now.”

~~~

“You know, you’re not half bad at that,” she says hands still tied as they cuddle in the afterglow. 

**Then, Again.**

“Do you remember that week in Germany?”

“Which week?”

Phil pointedly looks at Fury’s eyepatch. 

“Oh, that week. Wait. Shit. How long?”

“I’m on reset 24.”

“Jesus, Phil. Okay. Tell me what you need me to do.”

“In 15 minutes, AIM is going to come through that door. I need you to let them capture us.”

**Then.**

“Don’t let go!”

“Drop me, Clint. You have to drop me.”

“No! I’ve lost everything else. I won’t lose you, too.”

“You have to save yourself.”

“We live together or we die together. I’m telling you: do not let go. That’s an order.”

Natasha stares up into Clint’s eyes. 

He’s serious. 

“Okay. Okay, I won’t let go.” Ever. 

**Then.**

“I’m bored.”

“Go get some coffee or something. I can keep an eye on the mark.”

“No, not with— I mean, yes with this job, too; but also all of it.”

“You can pick the next one, I promise. The money was just too good.”

Clint scoffs, “I don’t care about the money.”

Tasha looks at him like he’s grown another head.

“I’ve already got more than I know what to do with. I could literally do anything I want. I just don’t know what I want.”

“We could open a brothel.”

Clint chokes, “We could what?”

“Just think about it. In the meantime, I heard Grigori Andreivitch has been bragging about a half million in diamonds and an uncrackable safe.”

“I— yeah. Okay. That does sound fun.”

“Which?”

“Both.”

**Back to that first Then.**

“Phil, please, trust me.”

“I do. I do, but—”

“Let me take care of you.”

“I’ll be fine, we just have to wait out the storm and then—”

“You’re hurting now.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Phil.”

“It’s not that bad.”

Fury stares at him, his gaze more penetrating with one eye than it ever had been with two.

“Please, just let this go. Please?”

Fury continues to wait him out.

“I can’t,” Phil says, though he’s long forgotten the reasons why; he begs Fury, “Please, sir, I can’t.”

“Phil. Kneel.”

He shakes his head.

But Fury has always had more patience than Phil.

**And one last time, Now.**

Phil isn’t sure how he let himself get talked into this. 

But then, Clint’s always been very persuasive. 

Natasha looks beautiful in nothing but a slim black collar, kneeling on Fury’s blindside. She’s leaning against him, her head on his knee.

Phil’s own collar is a comforting weight around his throat as Clint slips a finger between it and the back of his neck.

“I want you to kiss Tasha.”

Phil takes a shaky breath and presses against Fury’s other leg as he brings his face close to hers. He glances up to Natasha’s crystal green eyes, seeking permission, or maybe reassurance. 

They’re warm and open, transparent in a way that he’s never seen before. 

But then, he’s never seen her in a situation like this. 

He looks down at her lips again and she licks and bites the lower one in anticipation; he groans and moves in to kiss away the sting of her teeth.

“Good boy,” and it’s not Clint, it’s Fury, his hand petting through Phil’s hair, “Deeper.”

Phil moans as he obeys, Natasha’s mouth welcoming his tongue, hers sliding against his as he brings up his hand to cup her neck, his finger smoothing back and forth where the leather meets her skin.

She moans back and lifts her head from Fury’s knee, taking over the kiss and bending him until the back of his head is on Clint’s knee and he flickers his eyes open— When had he closed them?— and feels the last of his reservations melt away as Clint watches them with obvious hunger. 

“Up, kitten,” Fury says and, without her breaking the kiss he brings Natasha up over his lap. He rubs one ass check and then the other, before bringing his hand down in a vicious slap.

Phil wouldn’t have known she reacted at all if her lips hadn’t been on his and he moans again.

“You, too, Phil.”

Phil keeps kissing Tasha as Clint brings him over his knee. He jerks when Clint spanks him, crying out even though he knew it was coming. 

Tasha swallows Phil’s cry as Fury spanks her again, and they alternate like that, Clint and Fury spanking them in counterpoint as they keep kissing. 

“Ah!” The sound is small, almost covered by Phil’s cries, but all four of them hear it.

“There’s my girl,” Fury says, “Just a couple more.”

Clint knows that if it had been just him and Phil, Phil would have broken by now, begging Clint to kiss him, to fuck him, to make him come and let Clint come in or on him, but he’s also competitive to the core and while Natasha has him beat on stoicism, no one is as stubborn as his Phil.

Even once she’s broken, she says nearly silent, the single tear running down her cheek only outward sign of how much the spanking has affected her. 

“Come here,” Clint tells Fury, rubbing Phil’s ass with one hand and reaching out with the other to grab the back of Fury’s neck and pull him in for a kiss. 

Phil and Natasha turn their faces to watch, eyes wide; where their kissing had been a dance, Clint and Fury fight for dominance, neither ceding an inch, only breaking apart when Natasha whimpers.

“We didn’t say you could stop kissing,” Fury tells them.

“But now that they have, maybe we could put their mouths to better use.”

“Oh, yes please, sir?” Phil begs.

Clint pushes Phil off his lap and he scrambles to unfasten Clint’s jeans, mirroring Natasha at his side as she pulls out Fury’s cock and swallows it down to the root. 

Phil and Natasha keep an eye on each other, and at some point it stops being a competition and their fingers link. Their hands entwined, they focus their attention on their dominants’ pleasure, neither noticing when Fury and Clint begin to kiss again. 

Phil’s throat is aching and his ass is still on fire but he thinks he could go on just like this forever when Clint cups his cheek and says, “Time to switch it up, pretty boy.”

Phil’s earlier nervousness reappears and he licks his lips as he stares up at Clint, panting. 

“Tasha.”

Natasha rises and then settles between Clint’s legs, straddling Phil’s knees, inches from his painfully hard cock. Clint presses his hands on her shoulders and she grinds up against Phil’s cock; she’s so wet that there’s almost no friction at all, “I want you to use your fingers on her clit.”

“Yes, sir,” Phil says, trembling as he presses his fingers in between their slippery flesh, closing his eyes at the added pressure on his cock as he finds finds her clit and starts stroking her.

“Eyes open,” Fury orders him, his voice raw and Phil moans, looking over at him, his eyes caught by the naked desire he sees there, “Not me, pretty boy, her. See what she likes.”

Phil gasps at the pet name and does as he’s told, watching for the cues Natasha gives him, more pressure here, faster on the upstroke, sliding his fingers between her labia and then back to her clit.

“Two fingers in her cunt, now,” Clint says, knowing how much Tasha loves both the sensation and the word; he gathers up her hair and twists it into a just to the right side of too painful grip, “Let her ride your hand.”

She moans as Phil’s fingers thrust inside her and her rhythm stutters for a moment before she picks up the pace, writhing in Phil’s lap. Clint tilts her head and uses his thumbnail to scratch an ‘X’ over her pulse point, bright red against her pale skin, “Use your teeth. Mark her for me.”

Phil and Tash both moan at that, louder and louder as Phil bites and sucks over the mark Clint’s made. 

“Pull her up, Clint. I want your boy to make her come with his mouth.”

“Oh, thank you, sir,” Natasha says as Clint lifts her up up, one hand in her hair, the other up under her arm and cupping her breast. 

“Not until I say, kitten,” Fury says. 

“Yes, sir.”

Clint widens his legs, his cock pressing against the cleft of Tasha’s ass as he spreads her open for Phil. Phil looks up over at Fury, “May I use my hands? Please, sir?”

Clint groans. God, Phil is so sexy when he begs. 

“One of them,” Fury says and shifts on the couch until his leg is pressed against Clint’s, “Use the other on my cock.”

“I— Yes, sir,” Phil says, though the thought of crossing that barrier makes him tremble, and moan, and remember the sound of desert sand rattling the windows.

Clint bends Tasha’s neck further, giving himself access to the mark Phil gave her, layering over it with his own. 

Clint pinches Natasha’s nipple as he bites and sucks, continuing to twist the hand in her hair and Fury tells her, “Pinch the other one and pull Phil’s hair as he sucks you off.”

“Ohhh, yes sir.”

It takes a moment for Phil to find the right rhythm, but then all at once it clicks. He sucks Natasha’s clit as he fucks her with his fingers, sucking for a couple beats, then rubbing it with the rough flat of his tongue as fast as he can and humming, never stopping the steady pace of his fingers inside her, having to fight against the pull of her hand in his hair. Splitting his attention, he strokes Fury’s cock, tight on the down stroke, twisting on the upstroke, palming the head of his cock and then pressing his thumb into his frenulum before starting the cycle all over again. 

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, sir, I’m going to come.”

“Not yet,” Fury says, his own voice strained.

“Oh, please sir.”

“Hold out, Tash, and,” Clint removes his hand from her breast so that he can rub the tip of his finger over her asshole, “I’ll fuck this tight little ass of yours.”

“Oh, oh, no can’t, I can’t,” she says as she comes.

“Keep going, Phil,” Fury says. 

Natasha flinches away, suddenly too sensitive, “Oh, please sir, I’m sorry.”

“I told you to wait, kitten; this is your punishment.”

She starts crying and Clint uses her hair to tilt her face until he can kiss away a tear, “Sorry, Tasha, you lost my cock in your ass, too.”

She tries to shake her head ‘no’ but Clint’s grip is too tight and she begs mindlessly, “Please, please, please.”

Fury only lets Phil stop once Natasha is reduced to wordless sobbing, stilling Phil’s hand on his cock and saying, “That’s enough Phil. You were so good for us. You can have anything you want.”

Phil lifts his head from between Natasha’s legs and a shiver works his way up his spine and he has to will himself not to come, not to throw away his reward. Phil never would have thought she would allow herself to let him see her like this, needy and overwhelmed, that she could ever be so vulnerable as to fail at something, much less in front of him. He asks, “Can Clint fuck me while I fuck Natasha’s ass?”

Natasha gasps and surges into Phil, yanking the hand Clint has twisted in her hair forward as she kisses Phil, shocked, and yet part of her not, that he would share his prize so generously. 

“Tasha!” Clint scolds her and pulls her back, “Bad girls don’t get their asses fucked. Phil, you can fuck her cunt while I fuck your ass, but I want both of you to suck off Fury while I do.”

“Thank you, sir,” Phil says, “I’m sorry, Natasha.”

“She’s lucky she’s getting anything,” Fury says, “Now, let’s move this to the bedroom. The two of you can crawl for us.”

Clint lets Natasha slide off his lap and onto Phil’s; Phil nuzzles her cheek and then up to her ear, “I’m still sorry,” knowing it was his mouth that was part of her downfall. 

She nuzzles back and whispers with affection, “It was sweet of you to try. Maybe next time,” before twisting out of his lap and crawling towards the bedroom. 

He stills, startled. He hadn’t even thought about there being a next time. 

And oh, God, what was he thinking about allowing this, _doing_ this in the first place? It’s going well, but he’s heard about Fury’s feelings on aftercare often enough and he knows he can’t meet those expectations. That even now he hasn't let himself drop all the way into subspace, hasn’t been able to make himself vulnerable, and next to everything that Natasha has given he feels ashamed. 

“Hey,” Clint says, tapping Phil’s cheek twice, not quite a slap but certainly enough to get his attention, “No worrying. You let me worry. I’ve got you, Phil. I won’t let anything bad happen.”

Phil licks his lips, tasting Natasha on them and nods. 

“Kiss me?” Phil asks, partially for comfort, but also to share the taste of her with his dom. 

When they get to the bedroom, Fury is already naked and he and Natasha are in her oversized bed, both on their knees. Fury has his hand around her throat and the other buried between her legs as he kisses her, and she’s holding onto his shoulders, her blood red nails digging into his dark skin as she tilts her head back, parting her lips for him.

“Phil, kneel on the end of the bed and watch them while I get undressed.”

“Yes, sir,” Phil says eagerly, crawling up onto the bed.

Fury kisses Natasha, his fingers coming up to hold her jaw in place, his hands so large and her throat so delicate that he’s able to dig his thumb into the hollow of her throat just below her collar and thrust his index finger in and out of her mouth as he kisses her. He pinches her clit and she cries out, her hips twitching away, though only for a second before she brings her pussy back to his fingers so that he can do it again.

Phil moans and palms his cock, shivering with need.

“Ah!” He shouts when Clint slaps his tender ass, jerking his hand away from his cock, “Sorry, sir.”

“Who decides if you get to touch your cock?”

“You do, sir.”

“I don’t remember you asking permission to play with my things.”

“Oh, God, please, sir? Please may I touch my cock.”

“Would that feel good, pretty boy,” Clint kneel up behind him, naked and warm where he presses against Phil. He strokes his hands down Phil’s arms, squeezing his wrists before sliding his hands across Phil’s abs and then up to pinch Phil’s nipples, “Do you want to stroke you sweet cock while watching Fury and Tasha fuck?”

Clint links the fingers of his right hand over Phil’s and holds their hands so that they just hover over Phil’s cock. Clint scratches his nails from Phil’s nipple down to below his belly button and then back up again, stopping between each pass to twist Phil’s nipple.

“Fuck. Yes. Yes, sir,” Phil says, leaning back into Clint’s strength. 

“I want to hear you say it, Phil,” Clint demands, his mouth next to Phil’s ear.

“Oh! May I— may I stroke myself while watching them, sir?”

“All of it.”

“I— please, sir? I can’t.”

“All of it Phil. Good boys ask for what they want.”

“I— May I stroke my— my sweet cock while watching F—,” he breaks off with a whimper.

“Try again. From the top.”

“Please, sir?”

“Try again,” and there’s no mistaking the steel in Clint’s voice this time.

“Please may I stroke my,” this time the pause is barely perceptible, “Sweet cock while watching, oh fuck, Fury,” Fury! _His_ Fury, naked and glorious and close enough he could stretch out and touch him, “And Natasha fuck?”

“So good for me Phil. God, you are so fucking good for me. Of course you can my pretty boy,” Clint closes that infinitesimal space and wraps their fingers around Phil’s cock.

Phil slips into that level of subspace where everything is perfect and his head lolls back on Clint’s shoulder, Clint’s nails trailing fire up and down his chest.

“Look at how gorgeous they are together.”

Phil moans, his hips thrusting forward.

“Uh-uh,” Clint says, the scratching stops as he pins Phil’s hip in place, rubbing his cock between Phil’s asscheeks, hissing at the friction, “Behave.”

“Ohhhhhh, yes sir.”

It doesn’t take much longer for Natasha to start quivering; she breaks the kiss, her words slurred with Fury’s finger still in her mouth, “‘M go’n t’ cmm ‘gnn, srr.”

Fury presses his finger down on her tongue and he speeds up his fingers on her clit, “What was that, kitten?”

This time she’s completely unintelligible, though her desperation is clear.

“Sorry?” Fury says and she starts shaking her head back and forth, her hands wrapping around his wrist, trying to pull those dangerously wonderful fingers away from her clit.

“Uhhhhhhhn! Uhhhhh!”

Fury slips his finger out of her mouth.

“Coming! Coming! I’m going to come, please sir, please stop, I’m going to come.”

“Go ahead and come for me, precious,” Fury says.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhnh!” She cries as her orgasm pours through her like a tsunami.

“Oh! Oh, sir!” Phil warns Clint and Clint stills their hands before Phil comes, too.

Natasha collapses into Fury’s arms, “How are you doing, kitten?”

“Ffffrf.”

“What was that?”

“Ss’good, sr.”

“How about another one?”

“Yeah?” She asks.

“Yeah, lie back for me and bend your legs. You come whenever you want, as much as you want.”

“Mmm, thank you sir.”

Fury chuckles darkly, “Don’t thank me yet. I plan on keeping you coming the rest of the night.”

“Fuck,” Phil whispers. 

Natasha lies back as she’s told, her hair fanning out around her head as spreads her bent legs, her thighs are slick with her come and her pussy is almost as darkly pink as her bruise bitten lips. 

“Let’s get you ready,” Clint says, pushing Phil until he’s on his hands and knees, close enough to Natasha and Fury that he can kiss Natasha’s knee, so he does. 

Natasha reaches towards Phil but Fury grabs her wrist, and then the wrist of her other hand, pressing the back of the right to the front of the left and then both of them into the bed over her head, “You keep those there for me, sweet girl.”

She nods, words still being difficult. Fury lays down between her thighs, lifting her legs over his shoulders and he starts to eat her out, using one hand to rub her come around her asshole and the other to finger her pussy as he sucks her clit and she starts coming faster than Phil should have thought possible. 

Phil startles forward at the feeling of Clint’s slick fingers breaching him, two right from the start and it burns so good he moans and pushes back into them.

“What did I say!” Clint says, slapping Phil’s ass with his fingers still pressed inside Phil’s hole.

“Ah! Sorry, sir! I’ll be good.”

“You move your ass again without permission and I’ll grab a paddle and make sure you won’t sit for a week.”

“Ohh,” and Phil knows that right now while he’s got sub brain that sounds amazing but future Phil would be pissed, knowing that there’s no way he could hide it at the office. Even though current Phil thinks that would be hot, “Please, sir?

He isn’t sure if he’s asking to be spared or begging to be paddled; but really, it’s no contest because more than anything he wants to be _good._

He braces his hands and knees against the mattress, “I’ll behave.”

“Good boy,” Clint says, smacking his sore ass again, “I want you to keep watching Fury and Tasha and, if you ask very nicely, Fury may even let you suck his fingers while I get your ass ready to take my cock.”

“Ohhh, yes, sir,” Phil says.

Natasha cries out as she climaxes again, pushed over the edge by the mental image of Phil sucking Fury’s fingers, or maybe by the thought of Phil begging for the privilege.

Clint starts roughly fucking Phil’s ass with his fingers and it takes a minute to relax into it. It’s more difficult than usual because he can’t— both isn’t allowed to and couldn’t if he wanted to— tear his his eyes away from where Fury has his head buried between Natasha’s thighs.

Once he thinks he can speak again, Phil asks, “Please, sir, may I suck your fingers?”

“I don’t think he knows your speaking to him, sweet boy.”

Phil whines deep in his throat and then gathered his will around him, something about calling Fury by his name makes this more real than anything else and that’s terrifying. 

And exhilarating. 

“Fury. Fury, sir. Please may I, fuuuck!” Clint adds another finger without warning and Phil’s fingers fist into the duvet.

“What is it you need, Phil?” Fury asks, keeping his fingers busy in Natasha’s ass and her pussy.

“I—,” Phil looks down, suddenly shy. 

“Talk to me, Phil,” it's the voice that has gotten him through countless missions and impossible dangers, the voice that he trusts with more than his life, that he trusts with his every being.

Phil looks Fury in the eye and _submits_ , “Please, Fury, may I suck your fingers.”

Fury’s hand snakes out and grabs Phil by his collar, half choking him as Fury pulls him close, Natasha’s leg pinned between them, Clint’s fingers slipping out of Phil’s ass, and Fury kisses him. Just as suddenly as they were gone, Clint’s fingers are back, fucking into his ass the way Fury’s tongue fucks into his mouth. 

It’s almost an out of body experience as Phil realizes that on Monday he’s going to sit across from Fury in his office and know exactly what Natasha’s tastes like on Fury’s lips and he whimpers, tears falling as he becomes overwhelmed with emotion. 

“What’s wrong, sweet boy,” Fury asks.

“Nothing. I love you.”

They’ve said it to each other before, hundreds of times; trapped in a foxhole waiting to die, drunk on tequila and bad decisions, as a balm when it seems like the dirt of the world won’t wash off, even causally. No matter what’s gone between them they’ve never been afraid to express their love for one another. 

But Phil has never said it like this. 

“Phil,” Fury blinks away tears of his own, “ _Phil_ ,” and he kisses Phil again, pouring his heart into it. 

Clint keeps fucking his boy and looks from Fury and Phil to Tasha; she’s staring raptly at the two of them, two of Fury’s fingers still in her ass, her fingers twitching like she wants to reach out, but she keeps her wrists where Fury placed them. Clint catches her eye and mouths, “I love you, too,” and Tasha just rolls her eyes, and in the motion he hears her say it back as loudly and clearly as Fury had. 

Clint waits until he feels the emotion bleed off and says, “I think Tash is feeling a little neglected.”

Furry breaks the kiss, and then steals one more kiss before turning to Natasha, “I’m sorry, kitten.”

“No,” Tasha says shaking her head, “Don’t be. Please,” and she will deny it with her dying breath, but it’s her way of telling Fury that she loves him, too.

“I think Phil’s hole is stretched enough to take my cock now,” Phil’s chest flushes in delighted embarrassment, “What do you say, Tasha, is you cunt ready to be filled?”

“Oh, yes, sir.”

They move so that Fury is to Natasha’s side, letting her lap at his balls he moves the hand that’s been playing with her ass under her leg and sinks his fingers back into her asshole, still slick with the her come as it leaks out of her pussy. Natasha’s wrists remain in place; though she struggles against them, they are held by her will to submit; a bondage stronger than any metal. She presses her feet to the bed, her ass chasing after Fury’s fingers as they withdraw, acquiescing when they force her back into the mattress.

Phil crawls between her legs, sighing at the sweet relief of his hand on his cock as he tries to prepare for the sensation of sinking into her pussy.

“Lift her legs to your shoulders, Phil. I want you up on your knees for me.”

For a moment, Phil can’t obey, can’t even process the order, he’s lost in the feeling of her slick walls pulsing around him. Oh, fuck, she came as he entered her, that’s why she’s so tight he can barely move and there’s something else, something he doesn’t remember ever feeling with a woman before. 

It’s Fury’s fingers, working Natasha’s other hole, drawing out her orgasm. She sucks one of Fury’s testicles into her mouth, laving it with her tongue and the sucking as she pulls off of it and switches to the other one. 

“Phil!” Clint slaps his ass, “It’s not too late for the paddle. Get Tasha’s legs up and start fucking her cunt before I have to punish you.”

“Fuck, sorry! I’m sorry, sir,” Phil obeys, shifting up higher on his knees to both bring her ass up and to present his to Clint.

“I know you are,” Clint comes up behind him and rubs away the sting, biting him on the back of his neck just above his collar, “Now fuck your cock into her cunt as deep as you can and hold it there.”

“Oh, fuck, Clint,” Natasha swears, Fury’s cock resting on her lips.

“I didn’t put my cock there for you to talk around it. Start sucking, sweet girl, let’s fill up all of your holes.”

Natasha moans as she takes Fury into her mouth and starts bobbing her head, curling her tongue around his cock, slicking it up so that her lips slide up and down his shaft effortlessly. 

Phil holds still, all but his cock twitching deep inside Natasha’s pussy, and it’s only when he thinks he has to move, that he can’t stay still a second longer, that Clint pushes down on his back and they fold Natasha in two, Phil’s face close enough to hers for them to kiss and she does, pulling her mouth off Fury’s cock and sucking Phil’s lip into her mouth.

Phil breaks from the kiss as Clint presses the head of his cock into Phil’s slicked up hole; there’s plenty of lube but, as rough as Clint had been, Phil is a little underprepared and he can feel the burn as his hole stretches around Clint’s cock, “Ohhh!”

“That’s it, Phil, take it,” Clint takes his time sinking in, not so slowly as to let Phil adjust, but slow enough to draw out the pain, “Does it hurt, pretty boy?”

Natasha doesn’t take her eyes off of Phil’s face as she runs her tongue up and down Fury’s cock and his fingers in her ass keep working their magic.

Phil nods and Clint says, “Out loud; tell everyone how it feels.”

“Yes, yes, it hurts.”

“Maybe I should wait, let you get used to how my cock feels inside you.”

Phil shakes his head.

“And why is that?”

Phil whimpers and Fury grabs his hair tilting his head back so that he’s looking up at Fury, “Clint asked you a question, Phil. Answer the man.”

Phil closes his eyes, “I like it.”

“Well then, ask for it,” Fury tells him, letting go of Phil’s hair to pet his neck and Phil’s head falls back down, Natasha is blurry and he has to blinks away tears as he begs. 

“Please, Clint, please hurt me. Fuck my ass, please— fuck!” Natasha’s coming again, her eyes locked on Phil’s, her tongue rubbing the underside of Fury’s cock as she watches Phil beg, a tear drips from his face onto Fury’s cock and she licks it away. Phil moans, his hands tightening on Natasha’s legs to the point that there will be finger shaped bruises in the morning and the pain has her coming again, one climax right after the other. 

“Fuck!” Phil shouts again as Clint pulls out quickly and then thrusts all the way back in in one swift move, “Thank you, sir.”

Fury stops petting Phil’s neck so that he can lean over and twist Natasha’s nipple, no easy task the way her body is contorted, and she comes again, so fast in the heels of the other two it’s painful. 

“I’m only going to hurt you when you beg for it, Phil.”

“Ohfuckohfuckohfuck,” Phil chants, holding back his need to come. As soon as he thinks he can handle it he asks, “Please, sir, please hurt me— Oh!,” Clint is as good as his word, thrusting in and pulling out, “Please hurt m—ohhhh!” Phil is going to lose his fucking mind, “Again, please?”

Every time Clint rocks back, Phil is able pull his own cock out of Natasha until just the tip is in her pussy, every thrust pushes him in and it’s almost as if Clint is fucking Natasha with Phil’s cock. 

It doesn’t take long for Phil to relax around Clint’s cock, Phil begging as fast as he can to get hurt, to get fucked, “Alright pretty boy, you don’t get to come until I let you, but you’re so sweet and loose for me that I won’t make you keep begging. Why don’t you find a better use for that pretty cocksucker mouth of yours?”

Phil goes to join Natasha in licking Fury’s cock but he’s pulled short when Clint spanks him, “Manners!”

“Ohh! Please, sir—Ah!” Clint spanks him again, “Please, _Fury_ , may I suck your cock?”

“I’ll allow it, but I expect you to share with Natasha.”

“Yes, sir.”

While Clint continues to fuck Phil and by extension Natasha, they take turns sucking on Fury’s cock and balls, in between each switch Natasha licks the underside of Fury’s cock and Phil the top, their tongues mating around his shaft until they reach the tip and they can fully kiss each other with Fury’s cock in their mouths.

“Phil, when I pinch your nipples I want you to fill Tasha's sweet cunt with your come. Once you do I’m going to keep fucking you until I come, but I know how painful that is for you, so you’ll have to keep begging me to hurt you. Do you understand?”

Phil nods but when Clint spanks him again he stops sucking Fury’s balls long enough to answer, “Yes, sir, I understand.”

Natasha’s life has become one long, drawn out orgasm. She can’t remember the last time a scene has made her this sub-drunk and she wallows in it as she comes again and again, her awareness narrowed to bright spots along her body. Her wrists where she’s pinned them to the bed. Her mouth, playing with Phil’s around Fury’s cock. Her nipple as Fury pinches and twists. The ache in her spine from being twisted like a pretzel. Her legs have ten bright spots where Phil’s fingers are digging into her skin. But most of all her pussy and her asshole, one filled with Phil’s cock, the other with Fury’s fingers. The bright spots pulse with each orgasm and she can’t tell if they’re holding her together or tearing her apart and she gives into the moment, fully accepting either one— or both at the same time— as true. 

Clint bends over Phil’s body and rubs Phil’s nipples, preparing him, driving him closer and closer to the edge as Clint fucks him and Natasha. When he’s sure Phil can’t take it anymore he pinches Phil’s nipples saying, “Come for me.”

Phil comes. 

And comes. 

And comes. 

He gasps into Natasha's mouth as he spills inside her, his ass squeezing around Clint’s cock, making Clint grunt with the effort of holding back his own orgasam. 

Eventually eternity has to end and Phil comes back to his senses. Clint’s still buried in his ass and he tightens his hole experimentally and hisses at the overwhelming sensation. He licks his lips as he slowly catches his breath and tentatively asks, “Please, Clint, hurt me.”

“It doesn’t sound like you meant that, pretty boy.”

“I— I do,” Phil says, forcing a firmness to his voice that he doesn’t feel, “Please, sir. Please hurt me. I want to feel you come inside of me— Aaahhhhhh!” It’s not quite a scream but it’s close, it’s fire, or electricity, or ice, it’s a sensation beyond any feeling other than pain.

“Clint,” Fury says, his fingers slipping out of Natasha’s ass and releasing her nipple so that he can clench his fists. 

“No. I’m… I’m okay. Please, Clint hurt me again?”

“I want you to stay inside Tasha as long as you can,” at Phil’s nod Clint thrusts again. 

“Aaahhhhh, no, please!”

“ _Clint_ ,” Fury says again, catching Clint’s eyes. 

“‘M’okay. Again, please?”

Fury mouths, “Color check?”

Clint mouths back, “No.”

“Please what?”

Phil shakes his head ‘no’ and says, “Please,” again.

There’s murder in Fury’s eyes; he grabs Natasha hair, pulling her face away from his cock so that he can fully focus on Clint, and Clint mouths, “Trust me.”

“Please, _what_.”

“H-hurt me,” Phil whispers. 

“I can’t hear you, my pretty boy.”

“Hurt me,” it’s not really any louder, but Clint allows it.

Phil sobs this time instead of yelling and his hands scramble across the bed as he tries to get away, his spent cock slipping out of Natasha. Clint pulls him back into position and Phil does scream at that.

Phil sobs again and begs Clint, “Hurt me!”

From there it’s a litany of, “Hurt me,” and “Good boy,” and Phil sobbing or yelling; his body sometimes overriding him and he can’t stop himself from shouting, “No” and trying to escape, but as long as he keeps begging Clint to hurt him, Clint keeps fucking him. 

Natasha watches in awe; her legs have slipped down to either side of Phil and each time Clint bottoms out it squishes Phil’s soft cock against her clit; she’s never felt anything like it, but it’s good. Surprisingly good. Almost as good as watching Phil struggle to beg, and she comes again. Phil has his hands fisted in the duvet on either side of her and one of the times he tries to crawl away up her body his nipple comes close to her mouth and she bites it, hard, and he shudders, even as he keeps chanting, “Hurt me; please hurt me!”

It rubs Fury the wrong way, not having a check in, but he has to trust Clint, has to trust Phil— _does_ trust Phil; if it does become too much Phil will safeword, will stop asking Clint to hurt him and, by God, Phil is so beautiful when he is in pain. 

Fury sits back on his heels, stroking his cock, squeezing a little harder than he means to when Phil screams, though whether that’s because he wants to comfort Phil or wants to hear it again he really couldn’t say. 

At one point Phil collapses on top of Natasha, head on her shoulder, mindlessly repeating, “hurtmehurtmehurtmehurtme”, Clint’s bruising fingers holding his hips up as he ruthlessly fucks Phil’s ass. 

“So good for me, Phil. Such a good boy; love the way you hurt for me.”

Phil’s stopped trying to get away, stopped yelling, just crying softly as he begs, his oversensitivity is wearing off and he’s adjusted to the feeling of Clint ramming into his sloppy hole over and over again and so Clint starts slapping his ass, making him yell again. Phil doesn’t have the energy to move, he can only lie there on top of Natasha and take it, “Hurt me HURT,” he sobs turns his head and bites Natasha’s shoulder hard enough to to leave a mark but even then keeps begging, “Hurt AH! Me, hurt m-ahhh-Ah! Me, h-h-hurt me.”

“Keep going. Take it. I know you can, take it, Phil— Fuck! You’re so fucking pretty; fuck, I’m close.”

Phil says, “Hurt me,” and it also means “please” and “don’t stop” and “I love you.”

Clint growls and pulls Phil up and back until his knees are straddling Clint’s and his back is pressed to Clint’s front and Clint comes, filling Phil’s abused ass.

“FUUUCK!” Fury shouts as he climaxes too, his come painting Natasha and Phil’s chests.

For a moment, they stay like that, a panting, sweaty tableaux and then Phil blinks a couple times and is fully alert and out of subspace. 

“Mmmmm. Well. That was fun,” he says with a grin.

“Wha?” Fury’s still not to the point of being able to use real words, Natasha is completely blitzed out, and even Clint is only able to manage a puff of laughter.

“You need a minute?” Phil asks and squeezes his ass around Clint’s cock with a smirk, “Sir?”

“Ah-ah-ah!” Clint yelps and slaps Phil’s ass as his cock slips out of Phil’s dripping hole, “Ugh. Brat.”

Phil turns and kisses Clint gently, “You need anything, or is it okay for me to go for a quick run?”

“Wha?” Fury says again.

“Go ahead, sweetheart. We can clean up here and take care of Tasha. But then I want my cuddles.”

“Promise,” Phil says kissing him again before hopping up and stretching: waist and then back, shoulders, and arms, down into his toes to stretch his hamstrings and then back up to get his quads, “Fuck. That was good.”

Phil goes to the bathroom and gives himself a perfunctory wipe down, he’ll want to take a quick shower when he gets back, then brings out a couple of warm damp cloths, hitting both Clint and Fury with one in the chest.

“Take your phone.”

“I will,” Phil kisses Clint’s cheek, “I’ll be quick. Just around the block.”

Phil goes to collect his clothes from where they’re folded in the front room, Fury still trying to process what’s happening. He blinks it away. He can ask later; he’s trusted Phil and Clint up to this point, he’ll trust them now. He starts cleaning Natasha, whispering sweet words of praise, and Clint joins him in taking care of their girl. 

~~~ 

When Phil gets back, Natasha is wrapped up in the duvet and there’s a fresh one across the foot of the bed. Fury and Clint curled up to either side petting her hair. Clint gives her a cup of juice to sip from and Fury hand feeds her little pieces of a granola bar. 

“I’m going to hop into the shower, you guys need anything?”

“You want company?” Clint asks.

Phil hesitates.

“There’s no wrong answer, Phil.”

“No. Thank you, but no.”

Fury looks questioningly at Clint over Natasha’s head as Phil goes into the bathroom.

“Phil likes to process scenes on his own. Small scenes he’ll just stretch, more intense and he’ll go work out or run. This must have affected him more than usual. Not that I’m surprised, that was one of the most intense scenes of my life.”

“Really?” Fury’s surprise isn’t unexpected, given Clint and Natasha’s work. And history. 

Clint smiles, “I find everything’s more intense with Phil.”

“Yeah. It is,” Fury presses a kiss to Natasha’s forehead.

When Phil comes back out of the bathroom he’s rubbing a towel through his damp hair. Clint, Fury, and Natasha are under the covers, Clint and Fury still fussing over her.

“Okay, who wants cuddles.”

Natasha makes grabby hands and Phil tosses the towel over the back of the chair.

“Alright, kitten. You first.”

~~~

The next morning Phil wakes up with his arms wrapped around Natasha and Fury spooning him, Fury’s breath warm against the back of his neck. Clint is spooning Natasha, his hand on Phil’s hip. 

Clint opens his eyes, sensing Phil is awake. 

“Good morning,” Clint says softly, trying to not wake the other two.

“Good morning,” Phil replies, just as quiet. 

“How are you?”

“I’m—,” Phil stops himself from saying ‘good’ automatically and really takes stock, and when he’s sure, really sure, he says, “I’m good.”

“No regrets?”

“Just that I didn’t do this with Fury sooner.”

“Well, then we would have probably never met,” Clint says with a thread of amusement, but Phil’s eyes go wide and he clutches Clint’s arm, “Hey, no, it’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Clint squishes closer, pressing Natasha between them.

“Mrph,” she says.

“Now you’ve done it,” Fury grumbles, “She’s cranky when she doesn’t get to wake up on her own.”

Natasha glares past Phil at Fury, “Am not.”

“Of course not.”

Her expression softens and she smiles at Phil, “I’m happy you feel good. Maybe we can do this again sometime.”

“I… I’d like that.”

She smiles and wraps her arms around Phil and Clint feels a sense of contentment knowing that she’s decided, much like she did with Fury and Clint himself, that Phil is her people. 

“You were right,” she says, “He clings like an octopus in his sleep.”

“Hey!” Phil glares at Clint.

“Don’t look at me,” Clint claims innocently.

“Sorry, Cheese, that was me.”

“But he’s not wrong,” Clint says.

“Hey!” Phil says again, even more indignantly.

“Relax, os'minozhka, it is not a bad thing. Now let me sleep and in a little bit Clint will make us pancakes.”

“I’ll what now?”

“You heard me.”

Clint sighs, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t worry,” Phil says, far too cheerful for as early as it is, “Fury will help.”

“Yes, sir,” Fury says convincingly, then ruins it by squeezing Phil’s ass, making Phil yelp.

“Oooh, let me in on that,” Clint says brushing his thumb across the back of Fury’s wrist before grabbing a handful of his own, smiling as Phil squawks again.

“Natasha, help.”

“If the two of you do not stop pestering Phil let me go back to sleep, I will tie you up and gag you, and we will have pancakes without you. 

“I knew you were my favorite,” Phil says.

“I’m everyone’s favorite. Now go to sleep, os'minozhek, and if you are very good, I will bind and gag you _after_ pancakes.”

“See,” Phil says, snuggling into Natasha, “Favorite.”

Clint looks at Fury over their submissives’ heads, Fury looks back with a gentle smile and mouths, “Thank you,” and then closes his eyes as well.

Clint allows himself one last look at the three of them before drifting off himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, Fury is his people, too. 

**Author's Note:**

> And now I 100% promise to finish working on I Will Wait for You, and not play with the couple paragraphs I have of post Battle of NY Fury letting Clint and Natasha think Phil is dead for this ‘verse.
> 
> (I mean, I haven’t even decided if Phil comes back with amnesia or not. Or maybe adynamic. Both? No! Bad Para, no cookie. Finish IWWfY before starting anything else!)


End file.
